Dear M,
It's hard for me to believe you came into our lives a decade ago.
N had just started kindergarten.
G was a slobbery, mumbling baby himself when you arrived.
I was an energetic 36-year-old (which I only realize now that I'm a less energetic 46-year-old).
You were, and are, such an unexpected gift.
A perfect bookend to your equally chill sister to balance out your prickly brother in the middle.
What a weird and wonderful pack the three of you make.
N and G fight like crazy, but they both adore you.
At 10, you now wear braces to rid yourself of that darned genetic underbite.
You've been such a champ about wearing headgear at night.
You have your first male teacher, or "boy teacher" as you called him the first day of school.
You continue to go commando all the time, and I've just given up worrying about it.
In the mornings, before the bus comes, you like to toss hair ties back and forth with me in the dining room to watch the cats chase it.
You remain my ever-faithful ear twiddler, and you still love cold ears above all else.
You are quiet and a good listener, except at bedtime when you and G decide to be raving, wrestling lunatics.
I can't begin to imagine what our family would be like without you in it.
G would be so lonely.
He and N would be at each other's throats all the time.
N wouldn't have her littlest brother to snuggle with.
Daddy and I wouldn't know the joy of little hands to tweak our lobules.
Even a decade from now, when you're 20, you'll still be my much-loved bonus baby.
Momma
It's hard for me to believe you came into our lives a decade ago.
N had just started kindergarten.
G was a slobbery, mumbling baby himself when you arrived.
I was an energetic 36-year-old (which I only realize now that I'm a less energetic 46-year-old).
You were, and are, such an unexpected gift.
A perfect bookend to your equally chill sister to balance out your prickly brother in the middle.
What a weird and wonderful pack the three of you make.
N and G fight like crazy, but they both adore you.
At 10, you now wear braces to rid yourself of that darned genetic underbite.
You've been such a champ about wearing headgear at night.
You have your first male teacher, or "boy teacher" as you called him the first day of school.
You continue to go commando all the time, and I've just given up worrying about it.
In the mornings, before the bus comes, you like to toss hair ties back and forth with me in the dining room to watch the cats chase it.
You remain my ever-faithful ear twiddler, and you still love cold ears above all else.
You are quiet and a good listener, except at bedtime when you and G decide to be raving, wrestling lunatics.
I can't begin to imagine what our family would be like without you in it.
He and N would be at each other's throats all the time.
N wouldn't have her littlest brother to snuggle with.
Daddy and I wouldn't know the joy of little hands to tweak our lobules.
Even a decade from now, when you're 20, you'll still be my much-loved bonus baby.
Momma
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